


the gossamer thread you fling

by Spitfire007



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, Kylo Amidala, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, slow burn but with feelings not sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spitfire007/pseuds/Spitfire007
Summary: With victory so close at hand, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and Grand Marshal Armitage Hux must shift the image of the First Order from a military junta to a peacekeeping organization that will keep its promise of bringing order and prosperity to the entire galaxy. Behind the scenes, they must reconcile their own personal struggles to present a more united front and deploy their strengths into new roles befitting the First Order’s reconstructed image. Hux believes becoming a world builder will be easy; he just has to create technology to improve rather than destroy.  But for Kylo Ren, this means reinhabiting the world he ran from and utilizing his skills gained as a senator’s son.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: mentions of abuse
> 
> A noiseless patient spider,  
> I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,  
> Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,  
> It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,  
> Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
> 
> And you O my soul where you stand,  
> Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,  
> Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,  
> Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,  
> Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.
> 
> ~ Walt Whitman

 

 Armitage Hux is invested in the continuing existence of the First Order, so he contains the warring feelings of despair and rage that he has experienced since entering the throne room to find the entire Praetorian Guard and Snoke dead on the ground. And, of course, Kylo Ren lying supine on the ground—passed out but unharmed. Ostensibly because he was the cause of the damage. He lies when he rises, claiming the girl was the cause of the damage, but Hux did not find himself without rival in the First Order by being unfamiliar with the fine art of assassination in order to climb the ranks.

He contains these emotions all the way up until they return from Crait. He doesn’t know exactly what he expected, but Ren waiting in his quarters when he returned from damage control and setting courses wasn’t quite it. All the while he knows it was foolish to think that Ren would realize that the roiling feelings that have been plaguing him over the last cycle would mean he would prefer solitude. He had hoped—in vain it seems—that he would return to his quarters and have time to consolidate his own ambitions, reimagine the world with a leash held by Ren and not Snoke, and figure out how to turn the mess of the last 14 hours into something that could be salvaged.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux begins, but Ren cuts him off without looking up from where he’s fiddling with the circuitry of his lightsaber.

“We are in private,” Ren states. Hux breathes deep. The red wire that normally lays exposed on the outside of the saber’s hilt is detached and stringed through two of Ren’s ungloved fingers to keep it from getting in the way of his assumedly delicate work. In order to avoid snapping at Ren, Hux focuses on the end of that wire swinging as Ren moves his fingers. He finds it does less for his patience than he had hoped.

“Is that supposed to pass for permission to be informal with you?” Hux asks. He can hear how flat and irritated his voice is and reminds himself to detach all emotion from his speech. He’s too well bred to succumb to baser instincts and lash out. Well, his father would have argued his breeding was flawed, on account of Hux’s mother. But Hux had long since disregarded anything his father might have thought about him. He had disregarded it long before Phasma and he had orchestrated Brendol Hux’s death.

Ren looks up then. The expression of exasperation he shoots at Hux is ruined by his permanently wet eyes. He still looks ill, much like he has for the last several months, like he has since the destruction of Starkiller.  Despite the fact that he looks like something scraped from the foot of an AT-AT Walker, Hux is pleased to see that he has not donned a new helmet in a foolish facsimile of his grandfather’s appearance.

“That’s unkind,” Ren states blandly. There is humor in his voice. Once, they might have shared the joke, but Hux is unsure of where they stand. He’d had a long shift even after returning from Crait, but he still remembered the treatment he’d received at Ren’s hands. His earlier fits, which were suited more to the five and under age range, had left bruises all along his left side. The violence had taught him that perhaps caution was needed when dealing with this new Ren. It was a lesson he had carried with him all through gamma and delta shift, his side stiffening and forcing him to move more gingerly as he stooped down to look at the displays on the bridge.

“I came to apologize,” Ren says. Hux can hear the contrition in his voice and finds his anger dissolving despite himself. The past several years has been dotted by their own relationship, on-again, off-again, purely sexual and then after Starkiller something else entirely. It was true he had been ordered to pull Ren off the surface of Starkiller Base, but when Ren had looked up at him, bleeding out red against the white snow and said, his voice breaking in a way Hux had not heard from him before, “you came back for me”, he had felt something thick sliding down his spine to settle somewhere in his gut. He could taste whatever the emotion was in his mouth as he said, “of course.”

Hux makes a noise of assent, nods and then finally, unlocking his jaw, says simply: “It is accepted.” Ren seems unhappy at the prospect, his full mouth turning downward into a moue. Unpleased with his speedy progress, probably suspicious of Hux’s honesty, he continues.

“I won’t do it again,” he claims. And it’s only through long years of discipline that Hux manages to stop from rolling his eyes.

“You can’t be sure of that,” Hux states. “Let’s just leave it at your apology.”

Ren’s face contorts briefly, clearly disappointed, before schooling itself back into neutrality, except for his eyes. Hux notes them and barely contains his sigh. But his scrutiny has not escaped Ren, who returns his gaze down to his lap, his hair falling over to conceal a good deal of his downturned face.

Ren resumes his inspection of his lightsaber’s interior. With his eyes turned away, Hux doesn’t bother to conceal an eye roll this time. He drops his parade stance and takes two steps forward to land between Ren’s spread feet. He waits five full seconds, counting them in his head and when Ren doesn’t look up he sweeps the thick of Kylo’s hair behind his left ear. A few strands escape, but Hux can see Ren’s brow and beneath that the prominence of his nose.

He doesn’t turn his face up, so Hux tries instead “Kylo”. He sees his eyelashes flutter in consideration before he tilts his head back, exposing his wet eyes, his full lips, the marks that traverse his face. There’s a splotchiness to his skin that contradicts the emotionlessness of the rest of his face. Hux strokes the back of his hand, still gloved, across Ren’s left cheek allowing it to rest briefly before dropping back to his side.

“It’s nothing so serious as that,” Hux tells him. “I’ve been hurt worse.”

Hux sees the split second panic in Ren’s eyes before he averts them and then goes to drop his head, but Hux’s hand catches him under the chin and tilts it back up. Ren goes willingly, but he closes his eyes, although Hux can still see the quiver of his eyelashes as his eyes move below their lids.

Hux huffs and slides his left knee onto the couch by Ren’s hips. Hux waits semi-patiently for Ren to move his saber and hands from his lap, and then replaces them with himself. He feels his hips pop to accommodate the spread of his thighs across Ren’s, but after the initial burst of discomfort, he settles easily.

“Let me prove that you worry for nothing,” Hux says and then dips his head to reach Ren’s mouth. Ren offers his mouth up easily and Hux allows his eyes to slide closed. Kylo’s right hand travels up the outside of his thigh to rest on his hip. The other lays on the couch until Hux opens his mouth, and he reaches to cup Hux’s jaw. Ren’s hand brushes Hux’s neck on the way and Hux flinches and curses himself as Ren pulls back and shuts down. “Kylo, it’s not serious. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Ren turns a disbelieving look on him that practically screams ‘how stupid do you think I am?’, before huffing and turning his face to the side.

Hux, irritated and sore, raises himself from Ren’s lap and snaps, “You’re being childish.” Hux can see the urge to snap back rise in Ren, but he bites his tongue.

“This is just like you, whenever I need you to talk you’re practically mute, but when I want some peace and quiet you’ll philosophize about each and every star in the sky.”

Ren keeps his head turned to the side, but finally mumbles, “you won’t let me rectify it. 

“Rectify it how? By making empty promises?,” Hux says scathingly, “Kylo, it just doesn’t work that way. I don’t deal in worthless things.”

Hux hears Kylo suck his breath in through his teeth, and thinks briefly that it was too hard of a blow. But then Kylo turns his face forward again and meets Hux’s eyes.

“How do you suggest I correct it, Armitage?”

Hux is taken aback by the use of his given name, although he shouldn’t be. It’s not the first time Ren has used it, but it’s rare enough that he is momentarily thrown. In his shock, Ren gains the traction he needs to launch his own offensive.

“How do I rectify that I assumed full leadership of the largest military organization since the Empire, wasted valuable resources and energy fighting a _force ghost_ in front of our troops, and squandered our opportunity to destroy the last of the Resistance?” Ren continues, seething, “And on top of that I harmed you.”

“We are not _simply_ a military organization,” Hux begins. “ Secondly, all of this can be remedied by listening to council when it is given. Had you listened to my advice and suggestions we might have managed to secure a victory. Perhaps you are not suited to the type of attention to detail that running the First Order demands, but I am. I do not wish to see my life’s work unraveled by Snoke or by you, which is why you should trust my council above all others.”

“Regardless,” he continues, “I was not being hyperbolic when I stated that our control of the galaxy would be complete within months. Our foothold is secure, the Resistance is crumbling. We will be victorious.”

Silence reigns after Hux’s proclamation. Ren tilts his head to the side, contemplating Hux’s statements.

And then asks quietly, “And what about the last part?”

Sensing Hux’s confusion, he explains, “What about harming you? How do I amend that?”

Hux frowns considering. He couldn’t understand Kylo’s fixation on the subject. He had accepted his apology, but for some reason Kylo needed more to let it go.

“Well,” Hux began, “I would say that if your promises are worthless, you should offer me something I can use instead.”  
  
Kylo regards him in silence. Hux is ready to go back to something resembling normalcy and put this entire day behind him. He’s ready to lie down and maybe, if he’s lucky, catch an hour or so of sleep.

“A promotion, then.”

“Oh?” he says, “Who knew all I needed to reach Supreme Leader was take a few beatings?”

“No,” Kylo says, visibly taken aback, “that wasn’t what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” Hux begins to continue his quasi-mockery, but then he pauses. He thinks about how distraught Kylo is and decides to let the question lie as honest. What does Kylo mean to give him with this promotion?

“I can’t run this,” and Kylo gestures around him, seemingly encompassing the entirety of the First Order. He continues, “the logistical side.”

Hux nods his assent. He doesn’t think Kylo can manage something like this either, at least not alone.

“And you deserve the promotion. It’s what you’ve wanted for the last six years. So you’ll be Grand Marshal. And you will take over the First Order operations.”

“And why shouldn’t I just be Supreme Leader? Why not give me the full title and step down?”

“Right now, you are ‘Starkiller’. You can run the First Order, but when it comes time to negotiate with the individual governments of the planets, I can help you with that.”

Hux considers it. Kylo is right in many regards. Hux was never trained to be a diplomat or an ambassador. He can inspire the troops with a rousing speech, but soon the First Order will need to keep the territories they’ve gained through military action. He’s not sure he’ll be up to that task. He knows Kylo is good at speaking, good at getting his ideas across. He knows he’s persuasive, if impatient. He can see how Kylo can offer his expertise in statecraft, gained under the wing of a senator.

“And once the conquering is done, what will there be for me to do?” Hux asks.

“You are a builder. You’ve built and augmented everything the First Order has. If you can engineer that, why can’t you engineer the infrastructure that the Outer Rim planets are lacking.” Kylo states before asking, “Isn’t that what you learned from Grand Admiral Sloane? That the First Order should be about helping those disenfranchised by the senate? You will lead that process.”

“So we’ll be equals?” Hux asks. And when Kylo nods, Hux continues, “I can work with that.”


	2. Chapter 2

There are no less than 15 meeting spaces aboard the  _ Finalizer _ designated for use by those of captain level or higher. Of those, eight were available when Grand Marshal Armitage Hux had received a request for a meeting with Kylo Ren. His personal assistant Petty Officer Siv Bolander had read him the request and he had accepted it, but when he had checked the location he couldn’t contain his exasperation. Eight spaces available and the Supreme Leader, in his infinite wisdom, had chosen the one furthest from the bridge. 

While Hux enjoys on some level the constant tug-of-war that was any interaction with Ren, he also can’t suppress the vague desire to choke the life out of him on occasion. However, after the failure at Crait one month ago, they had come to an accord, and the jibes and arguments had begun to feel more and more as though they were performed by rote. After all, they had been quite busy. While Hux had been destroying pockets of Resistance fighters and small ancillary bases, Ren had been preparing for the next phase of the First Order. A development that Ren repeatedly assured him would be much more political in nature rather than martial. And, according to Ren, all the more important for it.

Hux had seen the reason behind not stretching their arm by purely military efforts. Ren had a point when he said that it wasn’t conducive to maintaining a lasting power. Hux agreed with his reasoning and had deferred to his informal training at his mother’s side, at least as far as controlling self-important senators and leaders was concerned. Because of this, he had consented to the division of labor between them thus far, Hux as a military and logistical leader and Kylo as something more akin to a figurehead. He assumes that Ren has made progress in that realm causing him to call today’s meeting. That, or he wants to see Hux’s progress. 

He isn’t expecting a collection of fabric swatches to be laid out over the table and Idunn Kari, a tailor of some repute, measuring the breadth of Ren’s chest to be what meets him. Kylo doesn’t seem to feel any discomfort at being caught shirtless in a process that Hux has always found vaguely uncomfortable.

“Would you like me to clear the room, Supreme Leader?” Kari asks, one step too close to obsequious. His unctuous tone causing Hux’s hackles to rise involuntarily. 

“Yes, thank you, Idunn. Give us half of an hour,” Ren answers, and Kari makes his way out of the room by going the long way around the conference room table. Hux assumes he’s hoping to overhear some of his and Ren’s conversation before he leaves, but Hux has more patience that people expect-- especially when it serves to be spiteful.

Hux picks up the closest ring of fabric swatches and notes that they are heavy brocades in a variety of colors. He hefts them slightly as he asks, “What is this about,” before tossing them lightly back on the table. 

“Part of my new image,” Ren states. Hux waits for him to expand on this statement, but when Ren simply continues to regard him silently, Hux is left to resist the urge to pick the brocade samples back up and throw them at his head. 

“I’m placing more trust in you with this enterprise that I believe I’ve ever placed in anyone, Ren,” he says instead. “I would appreciate a little more openness as far as your goals and progress.”

Some emotion crosses Ren’s face akin to embarrassment before he shores himself up, straightens his shoulders and says, “I’m redesigning my image after my grandmother.” 

Hux almost snaps that him redoing his wardrobe will not improve their galactic standing by one iota, but he has learned since the destruction of Starkiller Base that Ren responds better to less aggressive questioning and that his ideas, while sometimes flawed, typically have some merit to them. He chooses instead to allow Ren to explain himself. 

After a pause, probably to ensure that Hux wasn’t going to snap at him, he continues. “My grandmother has been a symbol of the failure of the Old Republic since her death. Even before then, she questioned their methods and favoritism of Deep Core planets.” 

“So you feel as though invoking her image will align her reputation and goals with that of the First Order,” Hux clarifies. Ren nods and Hux thinks over it for a moment. 

Even on Arkanis, where media had been heavily censored and what made it to broadcast and print was heavily modified, Hux had seen images of Queen Padme Amidala. He had read histories of her plight at the hands of the Senate and, eventually, her death caused by the failures of the Jedi.    
  
Whether every detail of her life presented to him had been true or not, it was certainly a story that painted the Senate in a negative light. Additionally, her physical image was iconic. He could easily conjure up several mental images of her ostentatious garb.

He looks Ren over and considers. He does share a likeness with his grandmother. He recalls having seen one of her speeches at the Senate. Her face had been stoic and difficult to read beneath the heavy cosmetics favored by the Naboo royalty, but her eyes had failed to conceal the emotion she had felt as she called for a vote of no confidence.

“I see the merit of such a plan,” Hux says, “but I wonder how you are going to disseminate this image to the masses. Do you plan to broadcast a speech, or?” 

“No,” Ren says. Hux ignores the irritation at being interrupted and allows him to continues. “You are still thinking like a dictator. You need to think like a diplomat.”

“What’s wrong with a broadcasted speech,” Hux asks gripping his wrist tightly behind him in parade rest. 

“It’s too direct for one,” Ren states, “it feels false and forced.” Ren raises his voice a half octave and states, “this is what I want you to think our intentions are” while bringing his arm down for emphasis.  Hux feels a keen sense of embarrassment as he realizes that that’s supposed to be  _ him  _ that Ren is imitating.

Ren returns his voice to its normal register and continues, “It needs to be a conversation.” He gestures in front of him as if indicating something on the table and says, “Diplomacy”. 

“You already sound like a seasoned politician, seeing as how you’ve managed to avoid answering my question,” Hux says. He forces his tone to remain as neutral as possible as he continues, “How do you plan to disseminate this image? If not through a broadcast, I fail to see how you intend for this to reach the eyes and ears of the galaxy.”

The corner of Ren’s mouth tilts down briefly in an aborted grimace, before righting itself to a more stoic disdain. “You won’t like it.” 

Hux heaves a heavy sigh, before stating simply, “I rarely like what comes out of your mouth.” 

“Dinners with diplomats and senators. We need their support. They can speak to those with pull in their regions.” 

“While I find senators distasteful, I see the value of such actions,” Hux acknowledges. “However, I hope that you plan to extend an olive branch to those outer and mid rim planets first.”

“I do. I also am hoping to convince strategically placed planets along trade routes to create an embargo on the deep core in order to sway public opinion.” 

“All told this is a decent plan,” Hux offers hesitantly, “I’m failing to see what I will find so objectionable.” 

“You need to come with me,” Ren says. 

Hux makes a mental note to report for his yearly medical evaluation, because the way he can actually feel his blood pressure rising is surely a cause for concern. 

“We agreed,” Hux begins, “you will handle all political machinations with non-First Order entities.”

“Yes,” Ren says, “but we need to show a united front.” 

“Yes,” Hux agrees, “but I do not understand why that means I must attend these ambassadorial performances. We agreed that they are not my strong point.” 

The words taste bitter in his mouth. It galls Hux to admit that there is anything at which he doesn’t excel, but he also hates the thought of sitting around a formal dinner table making  _ small talk.  _ He prefers the fine art of a battle speech, where being clear, direct and hyperbolic are preferred traits. He knows that he is unable to sit and smile and nod and ask after the crops on Yavin, or any other godforsaken planet, when he could save so much time but just saying why he is there.

“While that may be true,” Ren admits, and--truly-- Hux finds it irritating that he can’t be sure whether Ren is referring to his last statement or his private thoughts, seeing as how his sorcery gives him access to both. “I feel that we should encourage the image of a more personal intimacy.”

It takes Hux a moment to process Ren’s insinuation. Immediately, he rejects the very concept of sharing any portion of his private life with anyone, least of all who he sleeps with. He tells Ren as much to no avail. 

“Half of the power of Amidala and Vader’s story is the romance, Hux--”  Ren begins, only to be interrupted by an ungainly snort from Hux. “You disagree,” Ren states rather than asks. Hux answers anyway.

“I hardly view our relationship as a  _ romance _ , as you so fancifully put it.” Hux registers the vague hurt on Ren’s face and chooses to ignore it for the time being. Their relationship was the furthest thing from romance that Hux had ever witnessed. 

“Regardless of your personal feelings on the matter,” Ren continues, “there is power to a romantic backstory, and it would only benefit us to insinuate that we share a similar closeness.” 

Hux makes his disbelief clear with the look he levels in Ren’s direction.

“Really,” Ren huffs, “it’s not like it requires much from you. You can even wear your uniform--”   


“Oh, will you _ graciously _ allow me to wear my uniform. That changes everything,” Hux mutters seditiously. 

Ren raises his voice slightly and continues to speak over him, “We sleep together anyway, it’s not as though it will cost you anything to simply  _ exist _ in the same space as me.”

“That’s what you think,” Hux states, he considers referencing the last time he tried to exist in the same space as Ren and share command he ended up thrown against a control panel. But after reflecting briefly on Kylo’s reaction, he rethinks it and lets it slide.

To his credit, Ren doesn’t pause to acknowledge his commentary. “You just have to show up and stand next to me. I’ll do all of the work. You can even look bored and haughty.” 

Hux isn’t sold on the idea and he can tell that Ren knows it. Finally, Ren drops his gaze, adjusts the sketches of potential garments on the table in front of him. He sighs.    
  
“Listen,” Ren says, “trust me on this. Come with me to the dinner. If we aren’t successful this way, we’ll do it however you want.”

Hux considers it for a minute. He nods and then aloud says, “Fine.”

Hux’s personal comlink chirps, signaling that he’s needed elsewhere. He waves it at Ren, who makes a gesture with his hand, before saying-- “Send Idunn back in on your way out. He’s been trying to eavesdrop this entire time.” 

Hux resists the urge to tell him he’s not a protocol droid before dropping the issue and turning to leave. 

“We can discuss this more tonight,” Hux says. 

“I prefer not to talk business in our private quarters,” Kylo replies. 

Hux doesn’t bother to retort since he’s already in the process of answering his comlink.


End file.
